Poems and Songs

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J.R. Clarke, 1862 - Australian poetry - 144 pages
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Page 47 - ... chambers go, Like forms unseen whom we can hear on tip-toe stealing to and fro; But fill your glasses to the brim, and, through a mist of smiles and tears, Our eyes shall tell how much we love to toast the shades of other years ! And hither they will flock again, the ghosts of things tha.t are no more, While, streaming down the lattices, the rain comes sobbing to the door : While, streaming down the lattices, The rain comes sobbing to the door.
Page 26 - ... gullies we go ! And the cattle we hunt, they are racing in front, With a roar like the thunder of waves, As the beat and the beat of our swift horses...
Page 114 - Though this fadeless glory cannot hide a grateful nation's grief, And their laurels have been blended with a gloomy cypress wreath. Let them rest where they have laboured ! but, my country, mourn and moan; We must build with human sorrow grander monuments than stone. Let them rest, for oh ! remember, that in long hereafter time Sons of Science oft shall wander o'er that solitary clime ! Cities bright shall rise about it, Age and Beauty there shall stray, And the fathers of the people, pointing to...
Page 21 - O ! the barren, barren place ! See, behind us gleams a green plot : shall we thither turn and rest Till a cool wind flutters over — till the Day is down the west ? I would follow, but I cannot ! Brother, let me here remain For the heart is dead within me, and I may not rise again...
Page 78 - Now call on the horses, and leave the blind courses And sources of rivers that all of us know ; For, crossing the ridges, and passing the ledges, And running up gorges, we'll come to the verges Of gullies where waters eternally flow.
Page 79 - And clay-crusted reaches where moisture hath been, While searching for waters, may vex us and thwart us, Yet who would be quailing, or fainting, or failing ? Not you, who are...
Page 112 - Bitterly they mourned to see him all uncovered to the blastAll uncovered to the tempest as it wailed and whistled past ; And they shrouded him with bushes, so in death that he might lie, Like a warrior of their nation, sheltered from the stormy sky. * * * * * Ye must rise and sing their praises, O ye bards with souls of fire, For the people's voice shall echo through the wailings of your lyre ; And we'll welcome back their comrade, though our eyes with tears be blind At the thoughts of promise perished,...
Page 112 - Where he took and hid the hero, in the rushes and the sands ; But he like a brother laid him out of reach of wind and rain, And for many days he sojourned near him on that wild-faced plain. Whilst he stayed beside the ruin — whilst he lingered with the Dead, Oh ! he must have sat in shadow, gloomy as the tears he shed. Where our noble Burke was lying — where his sad companion stood, Came the natives of the Forest — came the wild men of the Wood ; Down they looked and saw the stranger — he...
Page 9 - And rocks embraced by cold-lipped spray, Are moaning loud where billows crowd, In angry numbers, up the bay. The holy stars come looking down On windy heights and swarthy strand ; And Life and Love — The cliffs above — Are sitting fondly hand in hand.
Page 1 - By the chasms and moon-haunted verges. I know she is fair as the angels are fair, For have I not caught a faint glimpse of her there; A glimpse of her face, and her glittering hair, And a hand with the Harp of Australia?

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